Three in a Pub
by TigressDreamer
Summary: {Strange Magic Week - Day 2: Platonic Day} A Scots, a Briton, and an American walk into a Pub. You know you're best friends when you want to kill them sometimes but you don't, even if they're such a pain in the... (Warning - not what you're expecting. Rated for the creative use/misuse of language. If it needs a higher warning, tell me!)


**Disclaimer for the story: Sadly, I do not own Strange Magic, although I do have the DVD that I play once a week.**

 **Somewhat inspired by several Tumblr posts I saw while browsing. If you recognize the similarities, Kudos to you and maybe drop a name if you know who inspired them because I can't remember. Translation for Scottish and British insults/slang is at the end. Constructive advice is appreciated but please refrain from criticism. Enjoy!**

 **(Slight edit as of December 18, 2019)**

Bog King looks up from his place at the bar as Roland Knightly walks through the door and promptly slips on a spilled drink. There were days when the lanky Scot wondered how they became friends but then the Briton would spazz out and he was reminded. Unfortunately, Roland's antics don't draw a smile this time and with a sigh, Bog returns to his drink. Women flocked to the golden-haired adonis but they avoided him, the black-haired grim reaper.

"Hey, buddy!" Roland greets, finally making it to the bar. "How bad is it?"

Bog lifts his double shot of whiskey before draining it in one gulp and ordering another. Roland groans in sympathy at his depressed friend and orders himself a bourbon.

"Remember when we were nine and we played that trick on Constable O'Rourke?" Bog questions softly.

"Do I ever!" Roland groans. "The git got his knackers in a twist and tried to send us to a reform school."

"But Maw calmed him down with the promise of punishing us herself," Bog continues. "We did errands for the entire neighbourhood until we were nahcerd."

"I would've preferred the reform school," Roland grumbles.

Bog chuckles slightly before staring in the amber liquid once more.

"What brought that up?" Roland asks, sipping his drink. "You on the piss?"

"This is only my third drink, ye dobber," Bog growls. "Ye know I can drink ye under the table any day of the week."

"Says you, you prat!" Roland bites back. "Now come on, what's the problem? We've been friends since primary and you know I love you like a brother but I got a date."

"How is Rachel?" Bog questions.

"Rachel? We broke up. I'm dating Jaqueline now," Roland mentions. "She's definitely The One."

Bog growls lowly, setting his drink down roughly, and rubs his hands over his face. Nearly twenty years of friendship forged from Roland being teased for his slight American-accent and Bog still couldn't figure out the guy's logic. Every girl was The One until Roland got tired of what he thought was perfect with them and nearly every single week was the same thing repeated. Normally, Bog would brush it off but not this time.

"Roland, ye need to stop doing this!" Bog states firmly. "Ye can't keep bouncing from girl to girl just because they showed ye something ye didn't like about them! Ye're not only hurting them but ye're also hurting yerself!"

"Push off, Bog!" Roland warns, setting his own drink down.

"Not this time, Roland!" Bog growls, fully turning toward his friend. "What was it this time, huh? Brittany, from two months ago, was a hoore, even though ye dated her because ye liked a woman that could keep up with yer libido. Mary, from last month, was conceited, even though ye dated her because ye liked a woman who took pride in her looks. Tayna, also from last month, was a workaholic, even though ye dated her because ye liked a woman that wasn't using ye to support herself. Janice, from two weeks ago, was too stubborn, even though ye dated her because ye liked an independent woman. Each one of them ye told me was The One, just like all the ones before! Ye need to stop doing this, Roland!"

"You're talking shite! I'm not doing anything wrong!" Roland insists. "How am I going to find my real wife if I don't date, you wally? You may be happy only dating but I want to get married!"

"That's well and good but ye're going about it the wrong way," Bog mutters, ignoring the pain from the unintentional slight. "Did ye ever stop to think about how ye make those girls feel when ye treat them like the sun and the moon, only to turn around and declare that ye don't love them anymore? Ye may not be hurting from ending the relationship but how are ye so sure that they aren't?"

"Shut your gob, you daft git!" Roland growls, pushing his face near the taller man.

"Dafty bastart!"

"Bloody wanker!"

"Toaty tadger!"

"Titchy knackers!"

"Baw..."

"Shut the fuck up! I'm trying to enjoy my beer!"

Both men nearly jump out of their seats at the growled comment before turning toward the voice's owner. Bog raises his eyebrows in surprise at the petite woman on his left side. She had arrived shortly after he did and though she took the seat next to him, despite the pub being nearly empty, she had said nothing other than ordering her drink. Right now, her amber-eyes show her annoyance at the friend's usual banter before she returns to her frothy mug. Roland gives the brunette an appraising look before opening his mouth.

"Don't even think about it," the woman warns, still staring at the dark beer. "I agree with him. You need to start taking relationships seriously and thinking more about what your partner needs and wants then what you need and want."

Roland shrinks back into his seat and sips his bourbon, looking like a schoolboy scolded by his favorite teacher. Bog's lips twitch as he barely keeps back the laughter that wants to burst out. No woman has ever looked at the polo star before and just dismissed his good looks, which Bog noticed her do when Roland walked in. Americans were a breed of their own...and just like that, his good mood was gone again.

"You going to tell me why you're upset?" Roland asks after a while.

"Ye're not the only one who wants to marry and settle down," Bog mutters, downing his third drink and ordering another.

"Blimey! Your girlfriend said no?" Roland murmurs in astonishment.

"Turns out that I didn't have a girlfriend," Bog mumbles.

"Bollocks!" Roland and the bartender comment.

"Apparently, we weren't dating," Bog continues. "She was just a girl friend, not a girlfriend."

"If she wasn't your girlfriend then why did she never pay for her meals when you two ate here?" Jack asks, putting Bog's next drink down.

"And why did she hang out with you alone without her other friends?" Roland questions.

"I was being a good friend by paying for all the meals because that's what friends do and I've never met any of her friends because, and I quote, for some reason her guy friends get mad at her and quit talking to her when they meet so she hangs out with each of them without the others," Bog remarks.

"Twenty years, Bog, and you've never paid for my meals! You're a terrible friend!" Roland teases before sighing at Bog's still sour disposition. "Then why did she get jealous when you tutored Nancy, Caroline, and Felicity?"

"She wasn't jealous, she was just being protective because friends do that," Bog comments. "She knew those girls wanted to date me despite what they said and that they were not good for me. She was trying to keep my heart from being broken."

"Nancy has a boyfriend, Caroline was engaged, and Felicity's a lesbian," Roland points out.

"Bisexual," Jack corrects.

"Whatever. What about Aura Plume?" Roland asks. "She had a fit when you were helping her that month she was on bedrest."

"She was worried that I would get attached to the older woman and be vulnerable to her advances because all older widows had lustful eyes," Bog answers.

The three men fall into a fit of laughter at that, all thinking of one particular older widow. One who's lustful eye only involves finding her son a suitable wife.

"Did you tell your mum any of this yet?" Jack questions.

"No, I don't know how. Even she thought we were dating and was happy when I asked for Gran's wedding ring. Maw's vindictive enough to fail her and I feel guilty enough as it is, I don't want her to lose her scholarship," Bog mutters before sighing. "Looking back on everything, maybe I should have realized that something was wrong and confronted her earlier. She's met all my friends and most of my family, all of which love her, but I've never met or even heard about her friends. The only family I know of is her overbearing father, who never lets her do anything fun, and a sister, who's always hovering, watching, worrying, and can also break bones with her bare hands. I don't even know that much about her life before she came here."

"You shouldn't feel guilty about thinking you two were dating, we all thought you two were dating because of how she acted around you. I mean, who tells a just friend of the male sex that they're on their period?" Roland asks, ignoring the coughing from the other side of Bog. "How did she react when you proposed to her? If it was bad then she deserves what Griselda is going to do to her."

"Luckily, I never got to the proposing part," Bog admits. "I came to her apartment this morning to do so but when I got there she was so excited that she couldn't wait to tell me the good news first. Her boyfriend and sister came to London for a surprise visit..."

"Boyfriend?" Jack interrupts.

"Her boyfriend of three years, the boyfriend she never told me about but apparently she told him all about me and couldn't wait for him to meet her good friend," Bog spits out, his anger returning slightly before deflating again. "I was raging and vented my mind for a good ten minutes or so before I left. Took a dander for a bit before I came here."

"That's why you brought up Constable O'Rourke," Roland mumbles. "But that was different, Bog. We played a clanger on the gaffer but we did make it up to him thanks to your bloody conscience. She's the one that deserves to be feeling guilty, not you."

"I made her cry," Bog sighs. "Dawn didn't deserve that."

"You're the guy!"

The three men turn their attention to the stunned brunette. Bog feels an ominous cloud hovering over him as he gets a full view of the woman's face, facial features that were awfully familiar. He was dead. He was sure of it.

"You're Boggy-Bear?" the American asks.

"Bog," Bog corrects automatically, cringing as amber eyes look him over.

"Marianne Lochart, Dawn's sister," Marianne introduces.

Bog stares at the offered hand like a poisonous snake and mentally calls Jack a coward as the bartender disappears. Roland taking the advantage of hiding behind Bog's form was no better.

"I know I shouldn't have said what I did to Dawn and I was just about to go back and apologize to her," Bog reassures.

"You'll do no such thing," Marianne insists. "You are in the right and Dawn deserved it."

"What?"

Roland braves a look over Bog's shoulder and both men share a look before staring at the waiting woman. Bog gingerly shakes her hand and marvels at the difference between the sisters. Though her handshake was firm, it wasn't a tight grip born from excitement as the bubbling blonde's always was, instead it was from confidence and controlled strength. The callouses were also something the younger sister's hands didn't have and he can feel the slight difference in her index finger, obviously from a previous broken bone. Bog feels a bit cold once he releases the deceptively delicate hands.

"Sunny and I arrived at Dawn's apartment a few minutes after you left and she was still crying," Marianne remarks, sighing at Bog's flinch. "The landlord was going to call the cops on you but once I heard the gist of everything, I told him not to. I had told Dawn that something like this was going to happen but she always ignored me. I knew I should have moved here with her when she got the scholarship and I am so sorry for her behavior. I'll make sure she gives you a full apology for stringing you along."

"It was my own fault," Bog starts.

"No, it wasn't. I know my sister and she's done this before. It's not intentional but that's no excuse. She insists that she is an adult, so she can start taking responsibility for her actions," Marianne remarks firmly. "I stopped counting the number of times I ran into one of her ex-boy friends and they complained to me about her but they always refused to confront her because they were afraid of hurting her feelings. Thank you for calling her out on her behavior."

"I reacted without thinking," Bog admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "I felt too hurt to think about how it would affect her."

Marianne's cell phone dings and a quick look causes her to growl. With quick fingers, she answers the text and shoves the phone into her boot. Jack reappears from nowhere as Marianne finishes her beer before ordering another.

"How long has Dawn been like this and why?" Roland questions.

"Honestly, I'm not sure and maybe this is all my fault. I tried to protect her like a good big sister but maybe I protected her too much," Marianne comments. "Once she hit the boy-stage everything went crazy. She just about ignored Sunny, her best friend since they were five and nearly every week she had a different guy that she was deeply in love with. I thought that when she finally realized that she loved Sunny all along that she would quit unintentionally hurting guys but it seemed to get worse. She's not searching for love but she keeps acting the same as before."

"Kind of like she got so used to searching for The One that even when she found him that she just can't stop searching, like a habit or something," Bog muses, noticing from the corner of his eye as Roland stiffens. "I think I can forgive her, eventually, but I don't think I can go back to being her friend."

Bog looks up as Roland places money on the bar for his drink and notices his friend's different demeanor immediately. He could probably count on one hand the number of times Roland actually looked serious.

"I got some calls to make," Roland mutters.

"Roland?" Bog questions.

"You're right, Bog. I can't keep doing this," Roland answers. "I'll talk to you later."

A small smile crosses Bog's face at the hope that Roland might be taking this lesson to heart. They were best friends after all and if the Briton was finally on the road to true happiness then that made this pain a bit worth it. Roland's paused form at the door doesn't register at first until a devious smile appears.

"Oi, Marianne!" Roland calls back. "Since it turns out that Bog is actually single, he could use a bit of rumpy pumpy."

He needed a new friend.

 **Tea Blend.**

* * *

Scottish insults/slang

nahcerd - tired/exhausted

dobber - a fool/stupid person. Also means "dickhead"

hoore - whore

dafty - silly, foolish person

bastart - bastard

toaty - small/tiny

tadger - yet another word for the male member

raging - Extremely angry; in a rage

dander - a walk

* * *

British insults/slang

git - scumbag, idiot, annoying person

knackers - testicles

on the piss - drinking heavily; going out for the purpose of drinking heavily

prat - an incompetent or ineffectual person, a fool, an idiot

shite - shit

wally - a mild form of idiot or fool (us term - dummy)

gob - mouth

daft - odd, mad, eccentric, daffy, crazy

wanker - masturbator

titchy - very small; tiny

blimey - an exclamation of surprise

bollocks - testicles (us term - bullshit)

clanger - a big mistake, blunder, bad joke or faux pas

gaffer - old man

oi - hey

rumpy pumpy - sex (used jokingly)


End file.
